


Button up

by fandumbandflummery



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Republic Commando Series - Karen Traviss
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 14:31:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10743630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandumbandflummery/pseuds/fandumbandflummery
Summary: Trying to get dressed in a seated position is bad enough without the constant beeping from his commlink - on the other side of the room, of-fucking-course - reminding him of the briefing that he is now VERY late for.





	Button up

**Author's Note:**

> Another tumblr prompt fic - "Zip Me (One character dressing another)".

Of all the days for his shattered leg to act up.

Trying to get dressed in a seated position is bad enough without the constant beeping from his commlink - on the other side of the room, of-fucking-course - reminding him of the briefing that he is now VERY late for. Manda knows what the Deltas and the newly-branded Omegas are going to be doing when boredom and frustration set in and the assorted Republic brass get too nervous to break them apart.

Just to make things even more physically and mentally exhausting, Walon Vau steps into his room, about as welcome as a dead tooke rat in his soup. He has GOT to get Taun We to change that damn lock.

“Skirata, they called you out there ages ago, you better not be dead in the ‘fresher- are you still struggling with your beskar?”

“Not one more shab’la word, Vau-”

“Here, di’kut, let me,” he cuts Kal off at the root, grabbing Kal’s armor vest on the mattress and settling it in place over Kal’s head.

“I’d let them go on without you but Master such-and-such is being awfully taciturn about speaking to any cuy’val’dar personnel not wearing gold armor and not called Skirata.”

Out of time, out of options, and out of shits to give, Kal submits to being manhandled with a grumpy face. Vau either doesn’t notice or chooses not to, neutral expression betraying nothing as he gets to work.

It’s a new but not unpleasant feeling, being dressed by someone else. Kal has to admit there’s a certain grace and precision to Walon’s movements, as he buckles on his remaining armor plates, letting Kal lean on him to take the weight off his aching leg, even taking special care not to jostle the sore joint as he slips his armored boot on.  
And okay, maybe its because nobody’s touched him in any great capacity at all for over a decade that he’s feeling a bit flushed when Walon finally steps away, gives a curt nod, and leaves.

During the briefing and for the rest of the day, Kal feels the phantom brush of deft, elegant fingers at the clasps and closures of his armor.


End file.
